


The Commander's Intentions

by DoctorBlindsy



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 15:33:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11084568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoctorBlindsy/pseuds/DoctorBlindsy
Summary: When Eseld receives a letter from her long suffering father Bann Arthyen Trevelyan asking a favour...I can't write summaries without sounding like that movie trailer guy.... Is that just in my head?





	1. Chapter 1

Eseld Trevelyan was, at most times a measured, confident woman. She was an accomplished mage, a former educator within the Circle of Ostwick, a former heir to the Trevelyan noble legacy, and now she was the leader of the Inquisition, the “Herald of Andraste”. In this moment, however she a was confused woman, standing in the middle of her quarters, staring dumbly down at the parchment in her hand:

My dearest daughter,

I hope this letter finds you well my sweet girl. As your father, you should know that stories of your deeds fill me with great pride. I won’t deny they also scares the life out of me. The stories of you fighting your way through Maker knows what, against Maker knows who to put down an ancient Darkspawn Magister does nothing for my nerves.

I write this to you now, in the faint hope that you may indulge your long suffering father and do me a favour. The other members of the family wish me to throw a feast in your honour as you have brought “great esteem” to our family name – or some such bullocks.I think it is a fools errand, however your grandmother insists. She has asked that I write you and so I do this as little more than “there, I told you I’d do it” and I fully expect you to say no.

If by some miracle, you agree to this, she has also asked that your inner circle be in attendance.. She “wishes to inspect the caliber of those you put at the center of your cause”. To be specific, she has asked for your Commander, Ambassador and Spymaster. I told her this would be impossible, but you know your gran. Either way, I’m hoping this condition will be sufficient incentive to decline. Maker knows I’ll have no daughter of mine paraded around like some prized livestock.

Incidentally, if you can actually pull this off, it would shut up anyone still in denial about you being the chosen Herald of Andraste, because it would be a bloody miracle.

All my love darling,  
Da

She must have read it a hundred times now, having received it this morning upon her return to Skyhold in the early hours of dawn. She had since managed to talk to both Lelianna and Josie about the idea, with both of them all too happy to oblige. Her thoughts now sat with Cullen. It had only been a few weeks since they had shared a kiss on the battlements, a moment she still remembered with warm clarity. However, she had since been away, not even having a chance to see him since her return. Her only interactions with him have been a few small notes of guarded affection folded in with his training reports and recruitment numbers.

She recalled his experience at the Winter Palace, seen his discomfort amongst the nobility. She had seen how they eyeballed him, salivating like a pit of hungry dogs. Even though they had gone before anything had transpired between them, she had been positively furious at their treatment and even a bit jealous that anyone would dare touch him. Now the thought of that repeating itself, when she was personally invested, could almost guarantee that the evening would end with any offenders being on the receiving end of her Winter’s Grasp.

She looked down at the letter and smiled softly. She loved her parents dearly and they her. They had married for love, a rarity in Free Marches custom, and that love only continued to grow, even after she and Bran had been born. They day her father had to turn her over to the circle had been the only time she’d ever seen him cry. He wrote her every week to gleefully tell her about all the trouble her younger brother Branok had gotten himself into as well as when the twins had been born, keeping her connected to the family she might have otherwise lost.. 

She was inclined to make this work for them as she knew what a hassle her grandmother could be. She was old nobility and a fixture in the Trevelyan family. She knew every noble line and connection by heart and could tell you every bit of gossip at any given time. She also placed station and class above everything. If her father had not managed to prove that his wife’s claim to a forgotten title had been genuine, they likely would never have been permitted to wed.

She sighed heavily, placing the letter on her desk and heading to the main hall. She was still disinclined to pose this to Cullen as she worried that he would be uncomfortable about being around nobility again, but would agree out of what he may see as an obligation. She trudged along, pausing to grab a missive board without reading it. Their courtship was still in its infancy, so for the sake of discretion she would make the visit look official. Passing through the large doors to the main yard before making her way to the stairs along the western wall by the tavern.

Finally reaching his office she knocked at the thick chamber door and chuckled softly at the very sharp “enter” that greeted her. She opened the door with a lopsided smirk and leaned against the door frame.

“I see someone has already gotten you annoyed Commander,” she teased, “perhaps I should come back at a better time so that I may do it myself?”

He stood up from the report he was writing, a wry grin curving his lips upward, “You have to answer the door like that. It helps keep the men on their toes.”

She smiled broader and stepped into the office, moving toward his desk as he moved to approach her, eyeing the missive board curiously, “What is that?”

They were standing in front of each other now, so close she could just reach out and grab him if she so desired, “This?” she waggled the board at him, “I – I don’t know actually.”

She laughed as she stopped to actually read it, “It appears to be a complete inventory of the cheese stores for the larder. I honestly just grabbed it. I didn’t want to seem more obvious than we already are.”

He stepped in close now, sliding an arm around her waist to draw her in, a playful twinkle in his amber coloured eyes, “Let them talk. You’ve been gone three weeks and I’ve no mind for subtext at the moment.”

She tossed the board to the side, before sliding her arms up around his neck, pulling him in for a gentle, lingering kiss. She softly stroked his hair as he gathered her into his arms and held her close. She reveled in the stubble scratching at her skin, his smell, the soft half-moan that drifted from him. Her cheeks flushed and she smiled into the kiss, pulling back, nuzzling his nose affectionately.

“Shall I take from that Commander, that you missed me?” she posed.

He beamed back at her, meeting her gaze with half open eyes, “More than even Varric could express.”

She drew back from him and shifted her weight as she tried to think on how she could position her question. She puzzled for so long Cullen cocked his head to the side, watching as she shifted and wrung her hands with a confused smile.

“Something on your mind?” he prodded.

“Huh? Oh – Y-yes. Right – That day on the battlements – When you kissed me,“ Sel hedged, “how long had you wanted to do that?”

Cullen folded his arms, “Much longer than I should probably admit.”

She began to try leading the conversation gently, “Given your sentiments towards the nobility, I must say I’m pleased to hear it,” she paused, “I’m glad my title and family name didn’t put you off.”

His eyes widened a bit and he looked a little sheepish, “You know, it really never occurred to – or at least I had not considered that I – I have no title outside of the Inquisition, “he looked down at his feet, “I hope that doesn’t – I mean, does It bother you?”

She snickered, “Some members of my family might be bothered by it. But mine is the only opinion that matters.”

He grinned, “Right – Sel what is this about? You’re stalling and that is never good.”

She sighed heavily, “I’ve received a letter from my father.”

Cullen shot her a confused glance, scratching his head, “I thought you and your father were on good terms.”

She nodded absently, “We are its just – ugh – My grandmother wants my father to hold a feast in honour of my being named the Inquisitor – I want nothing to do with it, but it would get her off my father’s back – except she doesn’t just want me in attendance, “she blurted now, “She also wants Josie, Lelianna, and – well – you there as well. I don’t want you to think that you have to because we are – you know --- and I know you hate being around nobles and – Maker knows why anyone WOULD want to be around them – I’m technically nobility and I can barely stand myself sometimes and – “

Cullen took her hands in his and shook his head in amusement. He was not accustomed to seeing her this flustered. “Your family wants your advisors at a feast to honour you? Why would that bother me?” he teased, “I rather like you.”

Her shoulders slumped, “I remember what it was like for you the Winter Palace. I didn’t think the idea of being around the nobility would be at the top of your list of things you’d like to do again.”

He drew her into his arms with a warm laugh, “With you looking after me? I’m sure it will be fine.”

She looked up at him with a concerned expression, “You can say no Cullen. I don’t want you to do this because you feel like you have to. I’m sure Josephine and Leliana would be more than enough.”

“Sel,” he began carefully, “I do not do things for you because I feel I have to. I do things for you because I care for you. In truth, I would have been far less happy at the Palace without you there, and I couldn’t even say anything when a noble approached you with a sordid look in his eyes. Now… I can punch someone if they get too handsy. I’ll be fine.”

She laughed and sunk into his chest, wrapping her arms around him, “You could have done that anyway.”

He rested his chin on the top of her head, closing his eyes, “So when will we leave?”

“I have to let my father know that you’re all agreeable sorts, he will set a date, and we will be off.” She stated, glad to be done with this.

He chuckled, “So we have time yet? Glad to hear it. I have more time to make sure that even if your parents hate me, you still won’t.”

She smiled up at him, before reaching up and giving him a peck on the cheek, “My father attending a feast was once described to me as a “bear in a trap”… I’m certain you two will get along swimmingly.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cullen starts to stress out.

Two months had passed since she had sent word to her father. Two months since she received an astonished response from him, promising her that it would be as simple an affair as he could get away with. It had also been two months with Cullen that she did not write about. She feared the bleats from the rest of the family would drive her to madness and so she consoled both Cullen and herself that it was important for them to meet him in person first before finding out.

He chided her for being embarrassed. She scolded him for that sentiment, for she could truly not be prouder of him and of all he had accomplished of their short time together. Many days were pain free, and the men were performing well above and beyond anyone’s expectations. She watched as he clawed his way back from the edge of the abyss and was happy and touched to have helped in any way. 

This still didn’t ease her apprehension. She had never been in a relationship, having left for the circle at nine years old. She had never presented a suitor to them as she’d never taken a lover in any serious form. Certainly, from time to time there had been a fleeting tryst with another of the apprentices, but never anything that warranted note.

He mattered to her. The small coin he had given her before they had lay siege to Adamant Fortress never left her small belt pouch that she carried with her always. And after they had shared their first night together, she had all but instructed him to move to her quarters. Subtext be hung when there is a gaping hole in the rooftop masonry billowing mountain air into the place. He had grudgingly obliged at first, having hoped to keep their private affairs private. Since then however, he had endeared himself to the idea. It certainly worked out in his favour when he awaited her return after a long foray out into the field.

Finally, on the second week of the third month, word arrived from the Free Marches and the date was set. It kept them there for a fortnight, which made sense considering the time it would take to get there from Ferelden. Her father had assured her once more that it would be as downplayed as possible, and one letter from her mother had requested that she “please be open minded to the idea of a dress”. She showed that particular correspondence to Cullen, who couldn’t stop laughing for well over five minutes.

Josie took care of the travel arrangements and they were off as soon as possible. Josie despised being late and it showed as she fussed over the travel time table like a worried mother getting her children up in the morning. Regardless of the chaos, the trip was a pleasant one, despite Cullen’s sharp bout of seasickness as they crossed the Waking Sea. When they finally arrived at the large white estate, they were greeted by a helpful stable hand and three footmen to help unload what they had brought.

“Sel!” a loud voice boomed from the direction of the large front door.

She turned her head, grinning from ear to ear, “DA!”

A tall broad shouldered older man trotted across the gravel towards them. He had shoulder length reddish blond hair, some tied in a small ponytail, with strands of grey mixed in, matching the full beard that covered his chin and jaw. Sel immediately bounded to him, grinning madly as she dove into his arms. He lifted her small form easily and hugged her tightly.

She made introductions, all of which her father received warmly. They were ushered inside and whisked away to their rooms. Eseld found herself standing in one of the many guest bedrooms. She remembered this one as she used to hide in it as a girl to read under the bed. Her brother Bran was only four, but delighted in running around waving a small wooden sword. A soft knock drew her from her thoughts.

Cullen was standing outside the door, having changed from armour to a light tunic and dark leather pants. He wore a concerned expression she met with confusion as she gestured for him to enter. He did, clearly trying to choose his words with care. She stepped up to him, putting a hand on his chest gently.

“What’s bothering you?” she quizzed.

He shook his head, “I should not have come.”

“What? Why? You were quite eager to meet my family before we arrived. What changed your mind?”

Cullen winged, rubbing the back of his neck, “Look at this place Sel. Look at the life you have the potential to come back to.”

She folded her arms, “You worried I’ll start getting pampered and suddenly you won’t matter? ‘Never mind that I love you Cullen, but Lord Thunderbottum has a servant for peeling my grapes’?”

His shoulders slumped in the face of her sarcasm, “This is serious. You are going to tell your parents, who own THIS estate with THESE lands that you have decided to allow yourself to be courted by some Ferelden dog lord?”

She raised an eyebrow, “My mother happens to BE one of those “dog lords” Cullen. We prefer “canine connoisseur”.”

He laughed abruptly, rolling his eyes, “Stop deflecting with jokes.”

“I’ll stop doing it, when you stop laughing.” She shrugged, “Look, get rested up tonight. Tomorrow night is the feast. I will tell them first thing the following morning, my father will want to take you hunting and my mother will try to dress you. It will be fine.”

“But if this is actually how you are accustomed –“he began.

She cut him off, “Cullen. It isn’t. I left for the circle when I was nine years old. I slept on a simple cot, ate simple meals, and was surrounded by Templars and books. I probably had a closer upbringing to yours than anyone in my actual family. So stop worrying.”

He drew closer to her, “If you’re not worried, why are you waiting for two days?”

She chuckled, “Meet my grandmother tomorrow evening, then ask me that. If she were to find out before that I was being courted by a – “She put on a silly sounding posh accent, “Ferelden peasant with no title to speak of, why she may literally die.” with that she pretend fainted against him, “and we couldn’t have that can we?” 

He sighed, defeated, “Separate rooms… I feel like I’m back at the monastery.”

She giggled and leaned up, kissing his cheek softly, “Perhaps you were the one with the better upbringing my love, if your monastery had Orlesian silk sheets.”

He chuckled softly, “Fair enough. I will retire I suppose. Kiss me before I go. I’ve gotten so used to sleeping beside you it might just carry me through.”

She turned and placed both hands on his cheeks, bringing him down to her, kissing his lips firmly, letting it linger for a moment before releasing him. He smiled warmly, albeit a bit sadly before leaving the room, quietly closing the door behind him. 

Sel shook her head, her smile drifting away. She had said everything she had needed to make him less worried but it had done nothing to clear her own doubt. She was certain that her parents would raise no objection over him. Her father had been the one to show Cullen where he would be staying, no doubt the entire time chatting about strategy and great battles in history. He was a former soldier after all.

Her mother was Ferelden and despite the fact that she was still minor nobility, she did marry for love and not money. Sel certainly loved Cullen and didn’t have a care if he had been begging on the street or the king of Ferelden. But she knew he was formerly a Templar. Her parents had an interchangeable relationship with the Chantry, despite the family’s deep ties to it. They had lost an heir and a child to the laws. Her father had even asked her to vote for rebellion when her circle was asked, but like many others at Ostwick, she was a neutral and had voted to remain.

She crawled into bed, too tired to even take off any clothing. She had not managed to see her mother as she had been cloistered away in preparations for tomorrow evening, but she was sure that was to change as early as possible tomorrow. She would relish in this peace for now, blowing out the lamp next to her bed, drifting into slumber quickly.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The poor Commander

Cullen meanwhile, lay staring up at the ceiling. The fireplace held mere embers now indicating that it had to be very late but he was still wide awake. He had, despite being alone, chosen to lay on one side of the bed, his hand once or twice instinctively flopping to the other side, in the vain hope that she might materialize. He knew he should sleep, but he couldn’t. He knew he shouldn’t worry about Sel’s parents finding out about them, but telling Cullen not to worry was like trying to convince the tides to reverse.

All he could think about is how different it was here. It was so richly lavish and ornate. He, even now, was worrying for their romantic future whilst wrapped in silk sheets. She could have everything here. The way things were looking in regards to mages, she could very well even regain her title as heir. What then? She’d have to marry someone of at least some merit, and he would be left alone.

He shook himself from these thoughts. Why would she do that? She said it wouldn’t happen, and he should trust her. He has trusted her a million times before. Trusted her to be safe, to make sound calls when in the field, trusted her to handle judgments fairly and without personal bias. He trusted that she wouldn’t blow herself up when attempting to craft new potions and toxins, or when she worked in the underforge, tinkering away with Dagna. Why suddenly did this give him pause? The money? She’s never cared much about that, lest his coin would never have left her quarters. The gift had value above material.

He ran his fingers through his hair. When he had left the order he had not thought to find anything in the Inquisition but purpose, which he had found. What else he found was her, Eseld Trevelyan. He had found a friend, lover, and stabilizer. He hated that he needed that last quality, but he did. Every time she would soothe him after a night mare, or massage his temples with her icy touch when he got a headache, he felt as though he was using her. That perhaps the love wasn’t even genuine, just a lie he told himself. But that couldn’t be right either. He lit up whenever she was in the room, her touch drove him mad. A single smile from her, and he may as well prance through the courtyard of Skyhold wearing a flower crown bursting with love and a smile for all the shiny coated beasts in the Maker’s kingdom.

She made him feel whole, something he had not felt in a very long time. To lose that now after they had come so far would be devastating.

Somehow, during the night, the Commander, in true form, worried himself to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new student and a mean old lady. How could Cullen's trip get any better/worse?

A bright flash of morning sunlight splashed into Eselds’ sleeping face, waking her from her sleep with a groan and a muttered explicative. She heard a soft, amused tut from across the room. A tut she knew all too well. She lifted her head to look, a knowing smirk on her face.

“Hello mother dearest.” She snickered.

Her mother rose, and moved to her, a demure smile curling her lips as she reached out, embracing her child affectionately, stroking her short blond hair, “hello darling. I am dreadfully sorry I missed you last night. Preparations I don’t wish to do for a feast your father doesn’t want to throw. You understand?”

Sel chuckled, sitting up properly and patting down her wild blond locks, “Oh I know. I have an ambassador and spymaster, who are thrilled to be here, and a military Commander who feels like a bull in a china shop and wants to go home. I swear it’s like I have children.”

Lydia Trevelyan turned to her daughter, sitting on the edge of her bed, “I suppose he told you that last evening did he?”

Sel went white as a sheet, “What are you talking about mother?”

“I happened to be coming to see you,” she explained calmly,” however you already had a visitor. I couldn’t help myself, and I listened to a little of your conversation. He’s right to be worried you’re here.”

Sel did nothing to hide the mild panic in her voice, “What do you mean?”

Her mother bristled a little, “Your grandmother intends to present you to the son of a southern noble family. A Ser Charles Whembly apparently. Tonight at the feast.”

Sel started to panic. This was just one of the many things she feared this night could mean. She had no intention of leaving Cullen for any manor of man, regardless of standing, but she was not confident that he would realise that. “Mother, can you not reason with –“

Lydia laughed, “Reason. With your grandmother? Andraste’s flaming sword girl. You have been away long.”

Sel groaned and fell back against her pillow, “He’s worried enough about being here, about what that will mean to –“

“What it will mean to your relationship?” Lydia pressed.

She eyed her mother from the propped up pillow. “Yes… Are you angry?”

Lydia’s face softened, a warm smile greeting Sel now, “No my darling. I am not. Your father MIGHT take some convincing, but he will come around. Cullen seems like a fine young man.” Her expression turned coy, “And if I am honest… he is quite handsome.”

 

 

Cullen woke up incredibly groggy. He opted out of breakfast, and dressed quickly, sliding his coat over his shoulders and snapping on his sword belt. He had resolved to find somewhere to swing it, perhaps get some practice in before meeting with Josephine and Leliana to discuss what they would need to do to prepare for the feast. They had semi-formal uniforms tailored for this occasion and others like it, but it was far too early in the day to even think about clothes. He dreaded tonight with every fibre of his being, dead certain that something was going to happen.

As he passed the small barracks that was housed across the stables along the eastern wall of the estate, he heard the familiar smack of a practice sword against a training dummy. He followed the sound, his curiosity getting the better of him. He rounded the corner, finding a young man, slashing enthusiastically at a battered dummy. He was a bit shorter than Cullen, with windswept short hair matching Sel’s. His form was competent, but unsure. 

Finally, he thought, a problem I can handle.

“Is he dead yet?” he quipped, causing the young man to stop, turning around suddenly, before flashing a toothy grin.

“I was getting there I think.” He paused, “I wasn’t aware I had an audience.”

Cullen chuckled, “Works better that way. If you know I’m watching, you try to show off.”

“Wait… Are you… Are you here with my sister?”

Cullen nodded, and the young man sunk the training sword into the dirt, approaching quickly whipping his hand before extending it, “I’m Branok Trevelyan, and you are?”

Cullen warmly shook the young man’s hand with a knowing smile. “Your sister speaks highly of you. I’m Cullen. I serve with the Inquisition’s forces.”

Branok’s eyes widened and his smile only got bigger, “Andraste’s arse you “serve” with the Inquisition’s forces. You command them! I have pressed Sel about coming to join the ranks myself. But she forbids it and says it’s too dangerous. I ask her about you, but she never tells.”

Cullen gave the lad a wry smile. “She’s like that. I imagine she fears for your safety, and rightly so. We face everything from demons to dragons. It’s not always pleasant. She is probably just trying to keep you safe.”

“Keep me bored more like it. “He groaned, “I can fight.”

Cullen unfastened his belt and shrugged his coat off, hanging it from one of the fence posts. He strode confidently to the rack of training blades, pulling one off, shooting a smirk over his shoulder, “Your form is competent, but it needs work. C’mon, I could use a distraction.”

Bran grinned from ear to ear, pulling his sword from the ground, “Stonking! If I win, can I join up?”

Cullen genuinely laughed, maybe for the first time since arriving, “I cannot at all make that happen. And since you winning isn’t likely, I’ll not feel too bad about it.”

Bran laughed, “I see why they picked you.”

Cullen stood across the training circle, his sword at his side, he turned his head to the side, “Let me see your stance again.”

Bran assumed it eagerly. Cullen circled, scanning for weakness, “For the record, they chose me because I was probably about the most experienced the Inquisition was in any position to recruit – put your left leg in a bit more, less open to a sweep – “he paused to even out the boys shoulders a bit, “When we began back in Kirkwall, even the rebel mages wouldn’t speak to us. I was the most convenient option. So I’m not some revered general with an incredible military background. I’m just a man who knows how to swing a sword.”

Bran shook his head, “It’s hard to believe that there was a point that the Inquisition could not muster support.”

Cullen chuckled, returning to his original position, “we have made great strides under your sister’s leadership. By the time we had managed enough support to get someone else, the others felt that I had built a rapport with the men and women who served us. I suggested going to a different person, but everyone seemed content to keep me.” he raised his sword, “ strike at me, I want to see how you handle something that gives back.”

Bran came in for a wide overhand swipe from the left, arcing down. It was quick, but predictable and Cullen countered, knocking the young man back a bit. Bran adjusted his stance again to where Cullen had told him, “What’s my sister like to work for anyway Commander?”

“What a strange – “he paused, “She’s fine to work with. I never feel as though I work for her though, strike again Bran – Er – Meser Trevelyan.”

This time he tried for a straight attack, shifting the majority of the blade towards Cullen’s chest, a far neater strike. Cullen countered again, however, Bran followed up with another strike from below, catching Cullen off guard, forcing him to sidestep, “please don’t call me that. I’d be pleased if you would call me Bran. Everyone else does. And can I call you…?”

The Commander smiled warmly, “Cullen, I’ve no title outside of the Inquisition. I’m just some nobody from a small Ferelden village.”

Bran smiled back, and lunged, watching as Cullen stepped to the side, countering quickly. They began to spar, blades clashing in the morning air. Cullen won each round, but he certainly noted improvement as they went. After several rounds, Cullen dodged an overhead counter, knocking the blade from Bran’s hand, sending it flying towards the dummies. Bran panted, sweat soaking into his tunic.

“Still think you can’t sneak me into one of your ranks Cullen?” he breathed.

Cullen chuckled, “Sel would murder me.”

Bran paused, standing upright, staring at Cullen, “What did you say?”

Cullen arched his brow, “Oh I just said Sel wouldn’t be happy about that if I decided to recruit you.”

Bran stood square now, his arms folded with a devious expression, “Hold on. No “inquisitor” no “Lady Trevelyan” not even, “Her worship”?”

Cullen suddenly realised what he had said, blush creeping up his neck and over his ears, “We are friends. I don’t always address her by title.”

Bran laughed, “Your burning ears betray you.”

Cullen groaned, putting his practice blade back, and turning to Bran. “Trust me, your sister is far too discerning to involve herself with a broken down former Templar.”

Bran rolled his eyes, clear in his message that he didn’t believe a word. Cullen slid back into his jacket, and left, snapping his belt back on. Perhaps it wasn’t too early to look into his uniform after all.

 

 

The feast was as relaxed an affair with nobility as Cullen had ever seen. The dining hall was awash with music, dancing and laughter. He almost felt at ease, which was becoming a rarer and rarer feeling during this trip. He would be glad to be back to Skyhold, to regain at least some sense of normalcy. Eseld was intentionally absent for the moment. She was apparently to be “presented” this evening and declared to him and the others that she would of course be “fashionably late” in protest. Cullen spent the next forty minutes in his chambers, pacing like a madman. What did that even mean?

He now stood like a guardsman, hands behind his back, taking in everything that was happening around him. Suddenly from out of nowhere, a small elderly woman dressed resplendently walked past him, stopping to look him up and down, a general look of disdain boring holes in his chest.

“You!” she barked, “Why are you just standing there like a statue? Don’t you know there are guests to serve?”

Cullen, taken aback, could only manage, “Sorry?”

“You should be. Andraste preserve me boy. The wine? The GUESTS? Don’t they make good help anymore?” she complained loud enough for those near to hear as his ears burned with embarrassment.

“I – I beg your pardon madam, but I am not a servant –“his tone shakily diplomatic.

Josie appeared from nowhere, bowing graciously to the woman before him, “Lady Trevelyan. Allow me to present the Commander of the Inquisition’s forces, Commander Cullen Rutherford. Commander, this is the Grand-Lady Trevelyan.”

Cullen straightened, offering a polite smile, “A pleasure my lady.”

“Pah,” she grumbled, “A mabari pup leading an army of the faithful? Tell me pup, what possibly qualifies a child to lead the Inquisitions armies?”

Cullen winced as her voice was sharp and it stabbed at his ears like a needle. He struggled to find any form of answer while the older woman stood confidently in front of him, her face growing more and more impatient. He attempted to open his mouth, and yet words failed him completely. It was Josephine to the rescue for him once again.

“Our Commander has more than earned the loyalty of those proud men and women who serve our cause My Lady. Any and all of his troops would gladly give their lives for the Inquisition and its Harald and it is thanks in no small part to Commander Cullen’s efforts as he is also widely regarded amongst the many refugees and pilgrims his men protect.”

Cullen fought off a smile. Josephine was using her “mother” voice. It was a firm diplomatic tone that she would often use on the older and more stubborn nobility she had to deal with. It was, as she said, like that of a mother scolding a temperamental four year old. The older woman bristled, an arrogant smirk forming.

“Yet he hides behind his ambassador’s skirt in the face of an old lady?” she chided.

Josephine started to speak but Cullen raised his hand to stop her, “I refer all diplomatic matters to the capable hands of our ambassador My Lady,” he flashed her a patronizing smile, “we wouldn’t want an incident now would we?”

She bristled harder this time and glared at him, “you’d do well to put this one a leash Lady Ambassador. Can’t have him piddling on the rugs and you people clearly haven’t trained him to behave.”

She walked away before either could say anything further, Cullen rubbed the back of his neck and chuckled, “sorry Josie. I fear I may have just made your job a bit harder this evening. That being said, I’ve no idea why… but I like her.”

Josie giggled, “I was actually going to congratulate you Commander. I think we may have just found the “father” voice for diplomatic proceedings. Remind me to bring you to court with me next time I need someone to be diplomatically… sassy.”

He grinned, “I’m sure the Inquisition would have far less friends extremely quickly were that to ever become a reality.”

She reached up and gently patted his shoulder, “besides, do not pay her any mind Cullen. She is just upset that Eseld got wind of her grand plan and is now playing coy. Something about her dress “malfunctioning”. She is almost as good at lying as Lelianna.”

Cullen patted her hand, seizing his opportunity, “I know. Listen, I meant to ask you about that. What does “presented” mean in this context? I obviously never attended things like this when I lived in Kirkwall.”

Before she could say anything, a loud voice boomed over the crowd, turning all eyes to the double doors of the dining hall as Eseld was announced, much to her clear chagrin. Cullen inhaled as he saw her. No sturdy leather tunics, no warm boots or fitted trousers. Instead she entered the room in a simple, elegant gown, fitting her form as it cascaded to the stone floor. A dark green velvet, intricately stitched around the neckline, corset and wrists in gold thread. The neckline came to just below her shoulders, framing them, leaving her neck and collarbone exposed. 

His mind wandered as he watched her admiringly from afar, his cheeks bright red at the thoughts her current attire were inspiring. He had initially thought the idea of her in a dress was funny, hilarious in fact. Now he kicked himself for ever doubting she would look as she did now. Her hair though usually brushed, was always a little unruly. Tonight it was brushed and neatly combed down to frame her face. His eyes now traced the exposed freckled skin of her neck and shoulders, starting suddenly from an elbow to the ribs. He turned to see Bran grinning madly. “Still in denial Commander?”

Cullen merely grumbled, saying nothing to implicate himself further. Bran stood next to him in silence for a moment, pensively watching his elder sister as she moved around the party. “You know… It’s alright if you do love her. Even better if she loves you back.”

Cullen turned to face him as he continued watching her, “Everyone loves her. Why wouldn’t they? She is smart, kind, even tempered. She is learned and well read. She’s pretty in her way, charming and a gifted mage. Do you know she voted in the college against rebellion even though my father practically begged her to vote for it?“

Cullen looked sadly at the boy next to him, “You think your parents don’t love you as they do her?”

Bran smiled, “No. I know I am loved, I’m valued. I am an heir to a legacy that was meant for her. I’m just saying that… I understand why you would love her. “

Cullen chuckled, “No problem with me being a former Templar then?”

Bran nudged him again, “IF anyone would have a problem, it would be Da, but… he knows about that, and I may or may not have told him how you helped me this morning. He already thinks you’re a “decent lad” so I wouldn’t worry too much.”

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, “So you didn’t tell him of your – suspicions from earlier?”

He shook his head, “Not my place Cullen. I’d like to count us friends. If you play your cards right, we’ll be brothers someday. And frankly, after this morning… you scare me a little.”

Cullen shot him a quick grin, “Good.”

Bran took that as a cue to head out into the feast, pausing to greet the nobles, with just as much ease as his elder sister. This particular elder sister was seemingly mingling her way to him. She approached him finally, taking note of the gaze she held.

“Go on” she said, half amused, “Get all the jokes you can out now because this is NEVER happening again.”

She gestured to the dress, but he instead, reached out, taking her hand in his, bowing down, and placing a gentle kiss on the back of it, his gaze never leaving hers, reveling in the rosy blush it incited over her face and exposed neck and shoulders. As he rose, she shot him an indignant look.

“Careful Commander,” she snickered, “make me blush too hard and we will have no secrets left to tell.”

He chuckled, “I’m afraid it is hard for me to restrain myself in current company.”

She eyed him quizzically, “seriously though? No glib remarks? No pithy comments?”

He looked to her sincerely, “I just didn’t think it was possible for you to be more beautiful than usual. As is tradition, you have proven me wrong yet again.”

She folded her arms, her blush intensifying. “Stop it.”

He chuckled, “As you command.”

Cullen couldn’t help but notice that she seemed far less comfortable then he had expected her to. “Sel… Can I ask you something?” he posed, his voice quiet.

“Of course.”

“What – what is this about a presentation?” Cullen noted her body language now, slightly distressed.

She looked away from him, “remember that joke I made about ‘Lord Thunderbottom’ and we thought it was funny? Well,” she paused, “there IS one, and I am being presented to him. ‘Presented’ is simply Free Marches noble-speak for ‘introduce’ which is noble-noble speak for ‘please marry my grand daughter’.”

Cullen’s heart sank like a stone, seeming to land in the pit of his stomach and he swallowed hard, “W-what is expected of you to do then?”

“Absolutely nothing,” she shrugged, still a bit flustered, “I will do nothing. He means nothing, has never meant anything, and won’t after tonight. I will bow, say “how do you do” and that will be that Cullen. Do you expect anything different?”

He sighed, “I suppose not.”

She nodded resolutely, “good.” she stated before turning to stand next to him for a moment, surveying the dining hall.

He raised an eyebrow before giving her a playful nudge, “is his surname actually ‘Thunderbottom’?”

Sel laughed and playfully nudged him back, “that would make this a bit easier,” she shot over her shoulder before returning to her ‘mingling duties’.

The stone in Cullen’s stomach only seemed to get heavier.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have officially tried a little dom!Inquisitor. Okay, I have to get this out there. My NAME is Dom, so every time I see that tag it makes me uncomfortable.
> 
> There... I said it.

“Eseld darling!” a familiar sharp voice summoned, “come here would you my dear girl.”

Sel sighed deeply and rolled her eyes much to Cullen’s amusement. She had finally managed to enjoy a few minutes with him and this was probably the most unwelcome of interruptions she could imagine. She turned and forced a smile at her grandmother and waved in acknowledgement. Her grandmother glared over her shoulder at Cullen. Cullen in turn, smiled charmingly back which only seemed to infuriate his newfound nemesis more. Sel noticed this and turned to him, folding her arms. 

“What in the Maker’s name was that?”

He mimicked Sel’s wave as well, his smile turning somewhat wicked as he looked down at her. “I met your grandmother this evening my love. She’s a delight.”

“Cullen on a scale of one to ten… how sarcastic are you being right now?”

He chuckled, “about forty seven.”

She winked and turned, “that sounds more like you,” she turned again to see her grandmother making idle chit chat with an old man while she waited. Cullen noticed him as well and looked to Eseld in alarm.

“That’s -- that’s not “Lord Thunderbottom” is it? Andraste preserve me, he must be a hundred.”

She laughed, “Cullen, that’s his grandfather. Old nobility in the Free Marches tend to flock together like a bunch of angry crows.”

His eyes then noticed a third party. It was a young man, dressed in resplendent attire of black and gold, with dark red hair combed neatly and vibrant green eyes. He was chatting with them both, laughing at their jokes with ease. He was poised, charming, handsome and proud. Someone from proper stock, a man she should be with. He only shook himself away when Eseld patted his arm.

“Ah, so NOW you have noticed Lord Thunderbottom.” she quipped.

“He’s handsome… “he mumbled absently, that rock once more returning to his stomach.

She looked at him in frustrated amusement, “you’re handsome.”

He shook his head, “not like that. He dresses well, he’s clean shaven with a tan and no scars. He’s poised, no trembling hands and I’ll bet he doesn’t talk in his sleep either.”

She chuckled, “possibly not. But you have the body of a warrior and a scar on your lip that drives me mad. You have eyes that both love me and undress me at the same time, a voice that could melt the very tips of the Frostback mountains in the coldest winter. And, unlike the nobility, you are well aware that your tongue is good for more than just talking.”

His face went blank, his cheeks burning and she took this as her chance to go and get this over with. She petted his cheek and winked over her shoulder as she crossed the room, “pray for me Cullen. Maker knows I shall need all my strength not to freeze anyone where they stand.”

 

  
From across the room, Sel watched Cullen as he watched her. She knew he was uncomfortable and so every now and then she would shoot him a reassuring smile. She had been forced into polite conversation for far longer than she wanted. The young nobleman seemed nice enough and even managed to come off as sincerely interested in the Inquisitions efforts and her exploits as their influence grew.

After what seemed like endless small talk the young man turned, knowing he still had obligations to the others at the feast. He flashed a charming smile and took her hand, gently kissing it before promising to speak to her again. She shot a look back to the Commander. He was turned from her now, flushed, his jaw knotted in clear frustration. She then saw as he relaxed, and a sudden sense of doubt seemed to seize his whole person. 

Doubt? 

Something about this annoyed her to no end. How dare he doubt her, doubt her faith. She had done nothing but given him promises that nothing would happen. Now he stands there, questioning all of it. As the young noble left, she turned to her grandmother, her tone sharper than she had intended.

“If you will excuse me. I have a matter to discuss with one of my advisors.”

Before her grandmother could protest, Sel made her way across the main hall, moving quickly through the crowd, weaving her way around the groups of people that had formed. She had to set something straight right now, and she was not at all in the mood to do it nicely. She reached Cullen who now bore a confused expression.

“A word Commander…” she said, her face was dark and her tone firm.

He followed her as she guided him to a small dark salon room. As soon as they were out of earshot from the party she turned and put her forearm to his chest, pressing him against the wall. She took little care for the vases that surrounded them, though she did not seem to wish to hurt him. She did however need to drive a point home. And if the Commander would not understand gentle reassurance, perhaps he would understand firm orders.

His amber eyes went wide as he looked down in her’s. Their blue depths which were usually bright and shining, now seemed dark. He had only ever seen them like this once, when they had taken the Temple of Dumat together in their pursuit of Samson. She looked fierce, even angry. He stood in silence as she faced him down, her arm still across his chest.

“You will never doubt my loyalty to you again.” she stated, her tone authoritative. 

“... I … “ he attempted before she shot him another angry look.

“This is not an argument. It is an order Commander.” she hissed, “you will -not- question my devotion to you ever again.”

He swallowed hard, suddenly aware of just how powerful a person she was, even without her magic. He also couldn’t help but feeling himself begin to stir and he blushed, shifting his weight under her arm. She registered this as well, pressing her arm against him even more.

“Have I made myself perfectly clear Commander?”

“I - yes.” he managed weakly.

“Yes what?”

He raised an eyebrow, “yes Inquisitor.”

She lifted her arm, and instead slid against him, her hip rubbing up against his arousal, causing him to shudder as she leaned up and kissed his lips. She lingered for a moment before drawing back and flashing him a wicked smirk, “I have always trusted you to acknowledge an order Commander.”

He returned her expression as his hands grabbed her hips and pulled her against him again, “I have indeed, although, now I fear I may be in no fit state to return to the main hall, as I’m sure you can tell….”

She purred against his lips, “you don’t seem too upset about that.”

He chuckled before seizing her mouth again, “just imagining how delightful it would be to be the one to help you out of that pretty little dress.”

She drew back, having sufficiently teased him before heading toward the door, only to cast one more lascivious grin, “play your cards right Cullen and you may just get your wish.”


End file.
